


Fireteam Zeus season 2

by FireteamZeus



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Destiny 2, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12928353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireteamZeus/pseuds/FireteamZeus
Summary: Fireteam Zeus is a Destiny 2 fanfiction that takes place after Ghaul's attack on the City and Ghaul's defeat. Season 1 can be found on DeviantArt if you look for it. I won't link it though. It was confusing. Too many people working on it. Kind of glad I lost two of my co authors.





	1. Fireteam Zeus S2E1: Just a Dream

__--↑--__

Alex

Alex and Arya's apartment.

Last City, Earth.

Mid October.

In bed with Arya.

 

  I woke up gasping for breath, my clothes drenched in sweat. What the actual fuck? My hand searched for Arya and I found her, waking her up in the process. Without a word we pulled each other close, both knowing why.

 

  There was a very tall silver exo with purple eyes sitting at the desk, his white robes adorned with pentagrams and eyes and other mystic symbols. Miro Shen. He was once a human but forty years ago or so he had been possessed by the Hive demon Nicodemus, and his body became something akin to a corpse. Church's Ghost though had stored his mind and Light, and after we defeated Ghaul he was downloaded onto an exo. Anywho, what was he doing here?

 

  “Same as the rest I suppose?”, he grumbled.

 

  “What?”, I asked, still short of breath.

 

  “Fever dream about that Prometheus thing, memories from previous life, the works.”, Miro explained.

 

  “Yeah, minus the memories.”, I confirmed. “Why?”

 

  “Felt real didn't it?”, he continued.

 

  “Terrifyingly so.”, Arya answered. “And I actually had a flashback, and I can see why Alex wouldn't. Was any of it…”

 

  “One hundred percent true.”, Shen answered. “Ikora found a book by Blue Daniels called Knights of the Coffee Table. Biography. Pre Collapse. It's got some interesting stuff in it so it's classified still.”

 

  “Is that all?”, I asked.

 

  “No. Saladin wants you all at the Iron Temple stat. I didn't have that dream, but I can confirm this. Most of the past two days since the Vanguard meeting was part of it. The Prometheus Network is real and it's got some psionic influence over prone minds. You also have three new Fireteam members to get acquainted with. And I sold the office to Hideo and moved your stuff back in for you. That's all.”

 

  “How soon should we leave?”, Arya asked, already out of bed and pulling on some armor over her shorts and sweater.

 

  “Kid.”, Shen laughed. “You're two hours late.”

 

___†___

Church

Iron Temple, Earth.

 

  This place was nothing like the Tower or anything else I was accustomed to. On the way here Skylar had told me about the Iron Lords and the Dark Age, but it all still seemed unbelievable and surreal. These few Guardians fighting not only the Darkness but the Warlords, the first protectors of humanity after the Collapse. What's more surreal is why we were called here. Prometheus was real. I thought it was just another nightmare, albeit a weird one, but apparently there was a Prometheus Network out there, it just had a huge psionic influence on reality and our thoughts. Only me and Skylar were allowed in, and I heard Saladin mention a young wolf or something as we entered the Temple.

 

  Once inside, a lady in medieval looking armor bowed to Skylar and took a place beside Saladin beneath a towering fire lit statue. Wolves circled the bonfire, looking my way more than once. Saladin beckoned Skylar over and he shared a few words with him before all three people nodded. Skylar, now wearing green armor and a Crown of Tempests, beckoned me too to come over, a long sword laying flat on its side in his hands. I did as instructed and Saladin whispered for me to kneel. What was this, a knighting? Saladin spoke.

 

  “Church. Just over a year prior to today one just like you knelt where you knelt, and I stood where the Young Wolf now stands. The Young Wolf conquered a threat much like the one you will soon be facing, I give it two weeks. He showed much promise, and he had the power of an Iron Lord and then some, having slain a Hive god in its throne world. I considered him worthy to be the first of a new generation of Iron Lords. Now he offers you a similar mantle, the second of the new Lords, the Grey Wolf. Do you accept, one slayer of Ghaul and a founder of Fireteam Zeus, a good man in every sense of the phrase, Church?”

 

  The lady leaned in and whispered, “It's a pretty nice gig. Just talk in a deep voice and puff out your chest and you'll do great.”

 

  “Efrideet, restrain yourself.”, said Saladin.

 

  “I would gladly do it for her!”, Idea-2, our new exo Warlock, called the door. “Sounds like a good time!”

 

  Saladin just waited for dead silence. Once the sound dwindled to that of just the wind and fire Skylar held out the blade. I nodded and looked at the glowing orange crystal visor of Skylar's helmet, telling him to continue with my eyes. Deacon appeared at my shoulder and looked at Skylar expectantly.

 

  “Take up this blade and wield it with pride. You are an Iron Lord now. I christened you Grey Wolf, for while you are young in this life, you are beyond your years in wisdom and understanding.”, Skylar said solemnly, whispering, “Scabbard sold separately.”

 

  I held out my arms and he passed me the long blade. It glowed like the sun in the firelight, the five foot long silver blade itself seemingly made of flame. I grabbed it by the grey leather handle and laid the blade in my left hand. Efrideet waved me up enthusiastically, so I rose.

 

  “Now, Grey Wolf, what comes next is for everyone.”, Saladin announced. “I have selected your Fireteam for this task as you are already involved, and for your skill. I have faith you will extinguish the threat when you come to face it again.”

 

  Skylar sent a message to everyone and they filed on in, facing us with the fire behind them. I went to do the same but a hand on my shoulder held me back. I saw a brand new pair of faces in the group. Idea-2 I had only briefly met, and Bellona I didn't even know how she looked beneath her armor. Probably just as scary as advertised. Ash though, I had already met her. She had arrived at the old office with her Fireteam, before we sold it to Hideo, and I had given her some new clothing to wear instead of the Eliksni rags she had arrived in. She was apparently a brand new Guardian, less than a week old. I would look forward to showing her the ropes, what little of them I knew that is. Curtis stood beside his daughter, and Alex was quite literally in her arms. He seemed scared to leave her, and I understood. Prometheus was scary as fuck, and the shit he'd done to them… Torture in every sense of the word. As a result of some error in his fabrication Alex felt pain when bound, and guess what that sick fuck did. And he tried to infiltrate Arya's mind for some reason, and I wondered what would happen if he had succeeded. Would he control real Arya too? Either way, that thing had to be destroyed. Anyway, only Shen wasn't here. Apparently digging for some book in the archives.

 

  Once everyone was here Saladin waited a whole minute to speak. The minute dragged along slowly and when it ended Saladin’s voice had that much more power.

 

  “Some of us here, namely the original members of Zeus, encountered something the Iron Lords both speculated about and feared in our early days. The Promethean Network. It tormented our sleep on the scarce occasions we dared to, and it plagued our waking hours with rumors of its existence. When we found SIVA, we thought Prometheus was a premonition of sorts. We were wrong. It exists, and may the Light help any who cross it. I have selected you, because of your leaders Captain Church and Major Skylar, to destroy it when the time comes.”

 

  “With all due respect Lord Saladin, but what the hell is ‘it’ even?”, Bellona asked, crossing her arms and staring him down. “I spent four years of hell outside the walls of the City and I never once heard of this Prometheus you're getting your knickers in a bunch about.”

 

  The chamber was silenced by her comment, and I was awed. I felt something flutter in my chest as she said it and afterwards as I saw her face. Long flame colored hair matching the fire behind her, and greyish blue eyes rivalling the Sun in intensity. She looked my way and my heart stopped, returning to normal when she looked away a split second later. Saladin answered her question.

 

  “Prometheus is a network created to appropriate new technology to be compatible with the old and vice versa, among other things. It was used to control superweapons, perform maintenance on Warminds, handle early versions of SIVA, replicate and copy human minds, and of course it was used as a weapon of war for the old United States. It made them world powers as they were called, or more so than they already were. It was later captured by the Russians and used to advance every Russian made technology to and beyond quantum computing capabilities. Now it has gone rampant, and it is a threat to us all. It has unparalleled access to the Warminds and if it manages to overpower Rasputin we would lose any hope of reclaiming the Golden Age, or even continuing to live as a species. Prometheus having control of even a single Warmind arsenal is to be considered a total extinction event; there will be nothing and nobody left.”

 

  “No pressure.”, Efrideet added.

 

  The meeting ended swiftly after that, Skylar asked if a horn or something was in his vault and Saladin had a hard time breaking it to him that it had been destroyed in the attack. I got a scabbard, black with a few silver crucifixes and wolves on it from Saladin and a pat on the back as we were essentially shooed from the Iron Temple. Saladin assured us he would notify us of any progress with Prometheus and told us to get our Fireteam in shape before he did. That sounded fun and all, but I had to go see about a girl. Two girls. Turns out, Bellona had some business with me too. When we exited the temple the Titan pulled me behind a pillar and put a firm hand on my chest.

 

  “I need a favor from you.”, she said.

 

  “Okay then… hit me.”, I replied.

 

  She slapped me across the face and smiled. I may or may not have said something like, ‘Aw damn it, I can't believe you've done this.’

 

  “Now that I've hit you, as requested, here's the deal. Ash needs somewhere to live, and she's sure as hell not able to live on her own. She's a few days old and she's borrowing a Ghost. Hers was damaged and later killed by some Fallen. She has a very dependent mindset and she needs someone to teach her how to shoot, how to use the Light, everything. Will you?”

 

  “Goes without saying that yes, I will.”, I answered in no time at all. “Is that all?”

 

  “No.”, Bellona said with a shake of her head. “Can you… I don't know maybe, talk with me, later, at the Victoria Café? I'll buy the food and drinks and everything else.”

 

  “Why?”, I inquired with a raised eyebrow.

 

  “It may seem crazy, but I saw something in you. I heard about when the Red War ended, how you fired the last shot on Ghaul, and then some. Your exploits in the hospital, the Terry kid, everything there is to know. I like the kind of person you are and I want to get to know you better before I fully join your Fireteam.”

 

  “It's a date.”, I joked.

 

  “Whatever floats your boat.”, she said with false sarcasm.

 

  I equipped my helmet and flipped up the hood of my fur trimmed camouflage cloak, hiding a grin from my Ghost as I trudged through deep snow towards my waiting ship.

 

~}÷{~

Miro

City streets.

Last City, Earth.

Midnight.

 

  Whenever I walked home from the bazaar or archives someone was always screaming or yelling or shooting, but this was actual fucking shrieking. Shrieking in agony. It was a male voice, and beneath the shouts I could hear a softer female voice assuring him it would be alright. I cracked open my sawed off shotgun and checked that both barrels were loaded before striding into the alleyway between the bakery and clothing store. There was a grey robed female Warlock stroking a red cloaked Hunter's reddish hair as he screamed and writhed, black steaming fluid streaming from his mouth. Great. This was familiar ground for me.

 

  “Hey Nicodemus.”, I said. “Come on out and chat.”

 

  The Warlock looked my way but immediately turned back to the Hunter as all of the smoky black substance exited the Hunter. Rule one about Nicodemus. Don't miss a perfectly good opportunity to kill the fucker. Rule two, don't question how a Hive based entity speaks flawless English and Common. Just kick his ass. The puddle of black shit coalesced into a humanoid shape.

 

  “Hello old friend.”, it said.

 

  “Forty years of fucking around with my old body hardly makes us friends.”, I growled.

 

  “What else would it make us?”, Nicodemus asked.

 

  I pulled a box of white phosphorus matches from my robes and struck one on my head. I flicked the match into the puddle of Hive essence and watched it burn to nothing. He'd be back, but this would make him fuck off for now. The Hunter got to his feet with the Warlock’s help and stumbled towards me. He outstretched a hand and I took it.

 

  “The name's Jack.”, he said. “And I believe me and Riley here owe you one.”

 

  “You're god damned right.”, I replied.

 

  “What the fuck was that thing?”, Riley demanded.

 

  “Bit of Hive goo I found on Titan around forty years ago. He's been a shithead to me and everyone else since.”

 

  “Well, once again, thank you.”, Jack said. “You got anywhere Riley here could hit the hay? I myself don't sleep and she's not exactly a Tower Guardian.”

  
  “Maybe.”, I answered. "Hey kid. How about a job too? Spots are open on the team, and I need someone to step in for me while I clean up the streets."

   

   "Sounds great.", Jack replied. "Bloody amazing."


	2. S2E2: The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Church and Bellona go on a date. Not much else to say.

___†___

Church

Church's apartment.

Last City, Earth.

Late October.

 

 Today is the day. Not the day Saladin called about Prometheus. The day of my date with Bellona. Okay, she didn't call it a date, but it was sort of implied. When my alarm went off I didn't even need to get out of bed. Hunters can do this thing where we don't sleep for days on end, and most have no choice on the matter, some not sleeping for entire years. But me, the only thing keeping me awake was her and the occasional Red War flashback.

 

  Anywho, when the alarm rang I was already dressed and ready to go. I was wearing something different today. My dress uniform. A long green silk cape with a black rimmed yellow Hunter insignia on it. A silver crucifix had been sewn into the bottom two corners, my logo and a symbol of my faith. Yeah the Traveller is impressive and all, thanks for the superpowers, but what made the Traveller? What made everything? Where was my soul for a millennium? Exactly. And if vampires existed too (I wouldn't be surprised), I would have some protection hanging around my neck. In the place of my usual armor I wore an officer's uniform, a dark grey five button shirt and slacks of a similar color. Beneath I wore a white shirt and red tie. Upon each shoulder I bore a Captain's insignia. Over my left breast I proudly displayed the fruits of my labor as a Guardian; shiny pieces of metal on ribbons. Medals. One was a bronze Red Legion insignia with white cracks etched into it, given to all Guardians who were alive when the Legion attacked. Even those who didn't live to see victory were awarded. Another was gold crosshairs with a shattered skull in silver, awarded to me for uncannily perfect marksmanship. The next was platinum and it depicted a V over a burning Cabal flagship, my name etched into the bottom. No surname though as I had none. This was awarded to only two Guardians for fighting and defeating Dominus Ghaul.

 

  I straightened my tie and adjusted the ceremonial Mauser style hand cannon at my hip. Deacon appeared in front of me and wiggled his shell.

 

  “Church, since when were you a formal kind of guy?”, my Ghost asked.

 

  “Since December sixth, three weeks before the Traveller awakened.”, I replied, giving the exact date of my resurrection.

 

  “Usually you're more… modest. Not once have you so much as breathed a serious word about your achievements.”

 

  “I couldn't have done it without Skylar, Alex, Arya, Curtis, Miro, or everyone else.”, I said.

 

  “There we go.”, Deacon sighed. “The medals are a bit much.”

 

  “Last time I checked you wanted me to flaunt my career.”, I said smugly.

 

  “Fine, it's the uniform.”, he admitted.

 

  “I'm the Guardian here, and I'm the one with the date Deac. Now get me a mirror.”

 

  He projected a live image of my whole body in front of me and holy guacamole was I smoking hot. I kept my hair in its usual short military cut, shaved all of my slow growing stubble as usual, and wore no makeup. Not a speck of dust, eyes still clean green lookin’ machines, boots laced tightly, everything in order. I exited my apartment into the hallway and was greeted by a Warlock with a shotgun wearing aviators and a blue tuxedo.

 

  “Hello Church.”, Skylar said, spinning the lever action shotgun. “Though I'd be your… Chaperone!”

 

  “I… I don't get it.”, I said.

 

  “Well, that's all I had to say, get educated.”, he said with a sigh. “Use protection, actually don't do intercourse at all. I'd hate to see such a promising Guardian turn into a sex driven horndog like the rest of the human race.”

 

  “I'll try not to disappoint you Mr Asexual Amoeba.”, I chuckled. “Ash is currently sleeping, so don't wake her. I have no clue what Idea-2 did but it somehow got her to finally hit the hay.”

 

  “Many Hunters have a unique way of combating their insomnia.”, Skylar said. “Some take centuries to figure it out, others find it immediately, most don't have one, and then there's freaks like you. A restful Hunter.”

 

  “You're quite the freak yourself.”, I stated. “A dreamy airheaded Warlock.”

 

  Skylar pulled a blue book out of his tux. Knights of the Coffee Table by Blue Daniels. His pre Collapse biography.

 

  “I have an IQ of over one hundred fifty three and growing as of page fifty six.”, he said smugly. “And you think your ‘I’m a mailman’, lie had eleven year old me fooled, which is adorable.”

 

  “I haven't read any of it yet.”, I told him.

 

  “Here.”, he said, tossing me a paperback called ‘The Black Hand: Inside the Lives of the Agents of the Last Worldwide Mobile Operations Force’. Very wordy title. “Chapters six to twelve are about a guy named Christian Mackenzie and his family. Known to us as Church.”

 

  “Where do you find these things?”, I inquired, flipping through the pages.

 

  “Maybe she'll tell you.” he laughed.

 

  I jumped in surprise as someone grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards the elevator. Bellona. She was dressed… elegantly, I guess? She wore a tight red skirt that went less than a third of the way down her very toned and fit thighs, a matching red blouse, a brown belt, and some uncomfortable looking two inch heels. I admit, I liked her body. Very fit, nothing short of angelic. God did a splendid job on her. The problem was the outfit. The red paired well with her long ginger hair, but I still didn't like it that much. Not what one would expect a Lieutenant Colonel and military genius to wear on a date with a, as much as it pains me to say it about myself, ‘war hero’. One thing I found attractive was the authority she simply exuded. I felt inclined to fulfill her every demand, whatever and whenever it may be. Probably her rank, maybe her height. How come most Guardians were so tall? If only Skylar could lend me a book on Darwinism or gene mapping or some smart person stuff to explain.

 

  Bellona pulled me into the elevator at the end of the hallway. She let go of my arm, turned me to face her, and gave me a slap on the face.

 

  “Jesus H. Christ falling off his bicycle and skinning his knee!”, I shouted, not flinching though. “What was that for?”

 

  “Dicking around with Major Skylar Peace.”, she stated. “I'm disappointed that you are on the same Fireteam as him. If you weren't co-founder I wouldn't have joined.”

 

  “I'm flattered.”, I said, batting my eyelashes and placing a hand on my chest.

 

  “Don't make me regret dressing like a fool for you.”, she warned.

 

  “You didn't have to.”, I told her. “And to be blunt, the outfit kind of ruins my image of you.”

 

  “I'll change at the Nevermore.”, she said.

 

  “I thought it was the Victory.”, I said.

 

  “Nope. The Nevermore. Ten times better service, food, and people.”, Bellona explained.

 

  “Oh.”

 

   We exited the elevator and headed off to the hangar. On the way there a black ship docked. I continued on to the hangar and Bellona grabbed my tie, pulling me towards the black ship.

 

  “That's yours?”, I asked.

 

  “One of many.”, she replied.

 

  I whistled a long, sharp note. Impressive. As she dragged me towards the ship I thought something strange. Did I actually like her exerting a degree of control over me? I guess so. Probably a result of my soldierly side. She outranked me and was older by four years post revival. Of course I would feel inclined to follow her orders. Or I just like assertive women.

 

  I felt the numbing sensation of transmat and in a flash I was in the copilot seat of Bellona’s jumpship. She appeared a second later and deftly… did pilot stuff. I never fly my ship, I leave that to Deacon. The jumpship left the Tower and sped off towards some place in the city below. I was about to ask her something when I once again felt the sensation of being deconstructed and reconstructed in a fraction of a second. That was fast. Before I could reorient myself and gather my bearings Bellona once again pulled me by the tie into a place that looked like an ancient twentieth century diner that couldn't decide if it was a restaurant or a bar. There were red tables with leather seats by the two front windows and along the walls, Guardians eating and drinking merrily at each one. Not a single civvy though. Where there should be a simple counter to order at there was a bar with red leather seated stools. Bellona pulled me along to the bar and let go of my tie, gesturing for me to take a seat. She walked off towards a restroom and I forgot our earlier conversation.

 

  “What are you doing?”, I inquired while fixing my tie.

 

  “Getting changed.”, she replied. “You should really listen up the first time around with me. I don't like repeating myself.”

 

  “I'll keep that in mind.”, I promised.

 

  I turned back to the bar and the man to my right started laughing hysterically. He was a tall person, but nowhere near as tall as Miro or Curtis, with the darkest grey hair, almost black but not quite. He had a small bit of hair along his jawline, but no beard, a pair of tired gold eyes, and he certainly came off as being very, _very_ , drunk. He somehow looked unprofessional in his grey and white dress shirt with coat tails and tuxedo slacks. He sighed and set down his empty glass.

 

  “Oh my fucking god!”, he nearly shouted. “ _You’re_ Church? Oh fuck… ha ha ha ha! You won't last a fucking second with her. How are you the one who killed Ghaul?”

 

  “Actually it was both me and Skylar working in-”

 

  “You're modest, I guess you've got that going for you.”, he said. “Good ol’ Bell hates braggarts.”

 

  He leaned in to inspect my medals and stroked his chin. He hummed and grabbed a shot glass.

 

  “Top Sharpshooter eh?”, he mumbled. “Think fast!”

 

  In a nanosecond the glass was in the air, my Mauser was drawn, and glass rained down on us. Deacon and another Ghost cleaned the mess up swiftly, disappearing after they had finished.

 

  “Okay, nevermind.”, the man said, raising his hands. “Maybe I was wrong.”, he added, lowering his hands and offering me his right. “Arthur's the name.”

 

  “What on God's green earth was that all about?”, I inquired, shaking his hand carefully.

 

  “An aptitude test of sorts. Had to separate rumor from truth, and you're currently pretty damn legit.”, he explained.

 

  “Isn't the bartender going-”

 

  “To fucking kill him?”, an angry fair skinned young man growled from behind the bar. “No. He owns the place too, and he's a Guardian. I literally cannot kill him, for the Nevermore and for lack of ability to do so.”

 

  Arthur pulled a sandal out of his coat's pocket, tossing it at the bartender. He ducked and came back up with a shaking fist. Arthur laughed.

 

  “Sandals. They're basically kryptonite to Mexicans.”

 

  “Enough!”, Bellona shouted, angrily storming up to the bar. She shook her own fist and lowered it once she saw Arthur. “Oh, nevermind, it's you.”

 

  She had changed into an only slightly better outfit this time. A pair of shoes that must have been in style in the nineteen fifties, some tie dye cutoff white shorts, a dark blue shirt tucked into the shorts, and a leather jacket. Perfectly fit the place's theme. Different shades of the twentieth century.

 

  “Damned straight it is!”, Arthur announced. “Nice shorts.”

 

  “No.”, a bearded man said defiantly. “Not nice shorts. Too much ankle. Definitely Haram!”

 

  “Definitely fuck out of my bar or I shove my shot glass up your ass and out your fucking nose.”, Arthur said enthusiastically. “Hey, I'm a poet and I don't give a steaming shit.”

 

  “Why you heff to be mad? Is just joke.”

 

  “Gee!”, Arthur said with a toothy smile, hands on his hips. “Well I guess I should be a little more polite about telling you and your Sharia police friends to get the fuck out of my bar!”

 

  “Dude, I was being ironic.”, he insisted.

 

  “Irony tends to reveal our true feelings.”, I stated, out of honest opinion and spite.

 

  “See, this guy gets it?”, Arthur said, pointing at me. “Next ten purchases are free, just because I like you. As for beardo, come back tomorrow with a better fucking attitude.”

 

  The man left his seat and so did his nearly identical friends, grumbling angrily as they stormed out of the bar/ pub/ whatever the hell it is. So far this had been the most interesting day of my life, not counting the first few weeks. Bellona took a seat beside me and her Ghost projected some sort of monetary transaction app.

 

  “Bellona, what part of free stuff don't you get?”, Arthur asked.

 

  “Arthur, you're drunk.”, she said calmly. “So Church, what do you want?”

 

  “Bell, I'm always drunk on some level.”, Arthur stated. “And I own this place. Please, accept the free shit.”

 

  “Arthur, sober up and then we'll talk.”, Bellona insisted.

 

  “I'm forty three post rez, I have an immunity to the shit like no other human being you've ever…”, Arthur drawled before falling face first onto the bar, eyes closed.

 

  “Okay…”, I sighed tentatively. “I'll just look at the menu then, and I'm paying.”

 

  The bartender/ waiter finished with another customer and came right back to us. He extended a hand and introduced himself as Oscar.

 

  “My man's out in Jerusalem waiting for me.”, he said. “We're going to be retaking the holy land for a date this weekend. Fucking ether sucking space pirates all over the place.”

 

  “Oh that's nice.”, I said.

 

  “Deus fucking vult.”, Arthur mumbled in his sleep.

 

  “Let's find you two a seat shall we?”, Oscar offered.

 

  There was a table open by the front window, one of those single couch seat things around it. What are they even called? [Okay, sorry for the fourth wall break, but actually tell me, please.] Oscar escorted us there and set the seats. I picked up the menu and was surprised at how much food had changed, or how little really. Maybe because the place was retro themed. I was expecting something weirder than simple fish and chips, burgers, fries, milkshakes, and whatnot, but no. It took me off guard really. I'd lived off of nutrient feeds and MRE for the entirety of my life so far, so I had no damned clue what was even good.

 

  “You know you can get literally anything you want right?”, Bellona said. “I'm paying, and I have more than enough money.”

 

  “No, I'm paying. I get Captain's pay and royalties from any merchandise inspired by me and Fireteam Zeus. I can do it.”, I assured her.

 

  “I worked four years outside the walls, never setting foot in the Tower once, I've had Lieutenant Colonel pay for a year, never spent a single credit or any glimmer where I didn't need to. I'll get it.”, she insisted.

 

  “No, I'll get it.”, I chuckled. “I got half of the million glimmer reward for Ghaul’s bounty. I can do it, and I will.”

 

  “It's on the house.”, Arthur said from the spot between me and Bellona.

 

  “Jesus H. Christ paying hookers to paint his fence!”, I shouted, very startled. “How did you do that?”

 

  He pantomimed dropping a smoke bomb and laughed.

 

  “You're pretty green for an army Captain.”, he stated.

 

  “Arthur…”, Bellona growled. “I'm on a date.”

 

  “So it is a date.”, I said.

 

  “Didn't I clearly imply that it was?”, she asked rhetorically.

 

  I nodded. Arthur whistled and made some crude hand gestures.

 

  “Oh fuck off!”, Bellona snapped.

 

  “Okay, okay, I'll get to the point.”, Arthur said. “Just messing about. Could you stay a little, after you two finish up here? I've got matters that I'd like to discuss with a very certain beautiful lady.”

 

  “Sure, but be quick.”, she requested.

 

  “Will do.”, Arthur promised, disappearing in a cloud of translucent smoke.

 

  “Sorry.”, Bellona apologized. “Have you decided what you're going to eat?”

 

  “I haven't the faintest clue.”, I admitted.

 

  “Aimatiroús Amerikanoús.”, she cursed.

 

  “What does that mean?”, I inquired.

 

  “Look, just hurry up.”, she said. “We may have eternity ahead of us, but we certainly don't have any special privileges regarding closing time.”

 

  “You could have said something like, we don't have all day, but that works.”

 

  Oscar came over to our table.

 

  “Any clue what you're having?”, he asked.

 

  “I do, he doesn't.”, Bellona answered.

 

  “Lemme guess where he's from. Starts with ‘a’ ends with ‘merica’.”, he said jokingly.

 

  “How's that in any way bad?”, I demanded, tiring with the nationality based jabs.

 

  “Classic American indecision.”, Oscar said. “I thought you liked history.”

 

  “Recent history.”, I corrected. “And the interesting bits. Not to sow dissent against the Vanguard, but I've read some weird stuff. Secret projects, Guardians like Skylar and Miro who can do more with the Light than lightning fists and stuff, Vex diseases corrupting Guardians, crazy stuff.”

 

  “Certainly sounds like it.”, Oscar said firmly. “Not the kind of thing you should be discussing though. Arthur… he just doesn't like it.”

 

  “You got it.”, I promised. “As for the order I'll take a number six.”

 

  “As will I.”, Bellona said.

 

  “And it's on the house!”, Arthur shouted from somewhere in the pub/ restaurant. “For fuck’s sake!”

 

  “I'm paying.”, I whispered.

 

  “I'll hit you.”, Bellona threatened.

 

  “Try me.”, I taunted.

 

  “I'll just leave before this gets too… Whatever it's going to become.”, Oscar said, backing away.

 

  Once Oscar had left I pulled out the book Skylar had given me. I flipped to the pages he had indicated and began reading, but Bellona put a hand on the pages. I looked back up at her and hummed questioningly.

 

  “Why don't you tell me about yourself, your Fireteam?”, she prompted.

 

  “Oh I haven't done much really this month and my war stories aren't too hard to find or easy to avoid.”, I said. “This book is supposed to have something interesting on me.”

 

  “You're an airhead you know that right?”, Bellona stated.

 

  “Well what should I talk about?”, I asked. “I've been alive less than two months. I have no life so far beyond the Red War. Maybe some funny stories from training but that's it.”

 

  “Okay so…”, she trailed off, leading me on.

 

  “Well what about you?”, I inquired.

 

  “Well, I'm not as new as you are obviously, so I've got a few stories of my own.”, she said. “I’ve died hundreds of times. I've killed thousands. I've liberated settlements from theocratic dictators. Name a place on the globe and I'll tell you one hell of a tale.”

 

  “The Argonne Forest Germany.”, I supplied.

 

  “I meant a country, but I do have a good one about Germany.”

 

  “Do tell.”, I prompted.

 

  Our food arrived, a simple egg and bacon breakfast because come on, it's six AM, and Bellona got talking about her weird day in Germany with her old Fireteam. Tom had found a war museum and was strutting about in a Waffen SS uniform, snapping Nazi salutes and speaking suspiciously fluent German despite claiming to be Armenian. They had an amazing day together, filled with song, loot, and dance, until the Fallen showed up. With spider tanks. Luckily, the war museum actually had a Panzer or two quite well preserved. With a little work from Ares and Tom's Ghost the tanks and shells were in working order in no time flat. She went into great detail about their tank battle with the Fallen, and how hilarious Tom was throughout it all, pretending to be Rommel and shouting things like, ‘This is what I call fucking _blitzkrieg!_ ’. Unfortunately, that was a month before Tom disappeared. That was one of their last days together. She did learn something crazy though. Some Guardians are actually from a time far before the Traveller, Tom being one of them. It was insanely rare, and she'd only known one other. A man named Fox who found a time freezing device on Io. She met him during a colossal Crucible match on the moon, whole armies of Guardians fighting for days in the space of a second. Timelock Wars he called them. Crazy system it is.

 

  In exchange for this story I read aloud from one of my chapters of The Black Hand. Operation Kennedy. I was only an NCO on the Mobile Operations Police at the time, but I played a vital role in saving the life of a world leader and many civilians, receiving a medal and being commended for my marksmanship. Bellona said that must be why my aim is so good, muscle memory. According to the first chapter I was almost eighty, although I looked not a day over thirty. Same thing in the next photo. And the next. In the second chapter it was explained. Telomere repair. It was administered to any and all willing members of the MOPs and Black Hand, which I joined after the scarcely documented Operation Omaha. It was crazy how little I had changed. I never really cussed, although once I was quoted as having said, ‘Fuck a duck!’, after getting shot in the knee. Luckily modern medicine could fix that. I also had a wife and child, but I didn't care to read much of that, not today at least.

 

  Deacon swiftly appeared in front of me.

 

  “Saladin sent a message for you. He needs us on Io now! Prometheus is attacking the Warmind vault. There's a Fireteam already there. Lance, famous boxer, is the last one left though. You have to get every Guardian even remotely affiliated with us on that moon now! No, I'll do it. Full roster is the usuals, plus a Hunter named Jack, a Warlock named Riley, Ash, Idea-2, and yes Shen finished teaching Ash to shoot. She's a natural. Now get on that moon!”

 

  I pounded the table.

  
  “Fuck a duck!”, I shouted, quoting myself. “Bellona, how about we finish this later. Duty calls.”


	3. S2E3: Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, much more is on the way. This chapter isn't too important, it just wraps up a storyline I'm no longer doing.

(=]  [=)

Lance

Warmind vault.

Io, Moon of Jupiter.

Fighting the Prometheus swarm.

 

  What the actual fuck was this thing? I'd fought crazy shit in my time, but nothing beyond the usual five races of baddies. This thing… What was it? I had sent out a distress beacon a few minutes ago, and help would be in the way, so all I had to do was hold the fort. The problem was, the SIVA swarm was making that difficult. On the bright side though, at least it was fighting fair. It had gotten me trapped inside the control room and coalesced into the form of a pitch black humanoid in a suit and tie, and proceeded to fight me in my own sport. Boxing. If only he weren't such an annoying opponent.

 

  “So Lance, are you a diversity pick or something?”, it asked, followed by a raucous laugh track and an easily dodged uppercut.

 

  “No, I'm a renowned boxer, and a bloody Guardian!”, I shouted, scattering the swarm again with a mighty Arc charged punch.

 

  It coalesced again and pulled out a rusty chair. It sat down and made a finger pyramid.

 

  “You're a black Jew. Diversity pick.”, it stated.

 

  “You're a talking pile of sand that killed my friends and is trying to hack a Warmind.”, I said. “Little bitch. I will crush each and every nanite between my thumb and forefinger one by fucking one!”

 

  “You won't leave here alive.”, Prometheus promised. “I already have control over Rasputin's ballistic missile arsenal. Pretty soon I'll have his satellites, his nukes, everything.”

 

  “Who said I planned on leaving here alive?”, I asked with a grin. “I will die my last if it is what it takes to save my people.”

 

  “Whatever you say.”, Prometheus said, getting up from the chair. “Now for round eighty four. Let's go.”

  
  


<#>

Skylar

In the shower.

Skylar's apartment.

Last City, Earth.

 

  People have these daily rituals you see. Morning coffee, kissing your girl on the forehead before going off to do a patrol, cleaning the house, sorting the dishes. Cool. Normal people stuff. But I'm not normal now am I? I wouldn't have been on Fireteam Excalibur if I was. I wouldn't have survived to kill my third god in a row and continue on to single handled end the SIVA crisis, and killed Ghaul with Church a year or so later, I if I was. I wouldn't have had to go through all that misery and darkness if I was normal.

 

  Look, my life's been fucked up from day one up until now and it continues to be fucked up. I saw and did things I wish I could forget, that I wish I hadn't done. At the end of the day, I couldn't even say it was all for the greater good. Leaving a highly impressionable, almost childlike, genetically engineered son for months on end… I couldn't forgive Zavala for making me do that. Alex was my perfect creation, my sole purpose in life from the moment he was fabricated. But because of my work we became separated and estranged for quite some time. That was just the beginning of the long list of fucked up shit I've been through.

 

  So each morning to wash away the sin and sorrow I took a shower, turning it up to full heat and using steel wool to scrub myself raw and bleeding. North hated it, but I did it anyway. I don't know why I did it though, but I just did. It hurt, but not enough to make me quit. I should consider seeing that therapist again.

 

  I reflected on one particular incident from my early life that had been bugging me lately. It had been a week since I had joined Excalibur, and I went to the markets to buy some stuff for Alex. Clothes, armor, games, anything I thought he would want. My wallet was nearly bottomless from the grants the Vanguard had given me for signing on with Project Lumen, so I decided to go make my boy happy. Plus, he was a little weird in the head. Guess it was a side effect of being only a few days old yet having the body and knowledge of one many thousand times that. I was only a few months old post rez myself. On my way home I was jumped by some civilians. You know, the people I was supposed to protect? Yeah them. They tied me down to a gurney and butchered me, time after time, letting North revive me so they could keep going. Eventually it ended, a knife flying clean through the head of my current attacker, the rest killed in a much cleaner fashion. Raven had been watching me since I joined Excalibur, and once he found out what had happened he abandoned any morality or regret and decided to slaughter them all. I could never figure out why they did it. Cutting the same Guardian to pieces over and over, all the while saying ‘It’s just blood,’ and other spiteful comments. When Raven saved my ass I simply cried and cried, confused and lost, taking refuge from the harsh and unpredictable world in his arms. It only got worse from there, and there came a time when I no longer had a Fireteam to lean on. Just me, my gun, and my objective. I became numb and unfeeling until the Red War happened, when I finally gained some purpose, when Fireteam Zeus formed and the family rebuilt. Except Curtis. Ever since he had been restored by the Vex, for whatever likely sinister reason, he had been distant from everyone. Even Arya, who was confirmed to have been his biological daughter.

 

  I heard a knock at my door and swiftly turned off the shower, letting North heal my skin and drying myself off. I had North quickly clothe me in my jeans, blue t-shirt, leather jacket, and of course my shades because why not. I ran through my dimly lit living room and flung the door open, not even bothering to put on a friendly face or anything. I leaned lazily against the doorframe, not looking at whoever stood in my door.

 

  “The fuck do you want?”, I groaned.

 

  “Good morning to you too dad.”, Alex said.

 

  “Oh shit.”, I hissed. “How's it going?”

 

  “It's been pretty good. Can't find a strike mission but the detective work is pretty fun.”, he said.

 

  I stood straight and looked at my son, or clone if you're an asshole and actually think of him as such. We've got differences. When I found the Garden of Eden Machine on Mars I was a whiz with the controls, so he's got a few intentional differences. Like eye color, mine being brown with green rims and his being pure bronze. Our hair was the same, but his was a darker brown and a little bit curlier. Oh, and I'm six foot four whereas he's six even. He wore a long black autumn coat, a pair of loose jeans, a red shirt, and some military boots. Arya was with him. She wore, as usual, a seasonally inappropriate outfit. A white short sleeved blouse with gold stylized stormclouds over her chest, blue faux leather shorts, and a pair of autumn boots, the only seasonally appropriate part of her getup.

 

  “So why are you two here?”, I inquired.

 

  “Just dropping by. Church is on his date and Idea-2 is way too annoying to deal with for more than five minutes at a time when Bellona isn't there to keep him in check.”, Arya explained. “Curtis being as distant as he is and Shen doing the vigilante thing that left you.”

 

  “Last choice then?”, I said. “I'm flattered, truly. Come on in.”

 

  Then, as he tends to do, North interrupted a tender family moment. Prometheus. The Prometheus thing was on Io, attacking Rasputin. Holy fuckeroli.

 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Idea-2

Church's apartment.

Last City, Earth.

 

  Ash looked so cute, no matter what. You could put her in a Victorian era dress and corset and she'd still manage to make it look positively adorable. It was hard to believe she was pretty much fated to a life of war and dying once a week. At best. Currently she was asleep, having tired herself out at the shooting range. She could fall asleep at the drop of a hat I tell you. She'd curled up on the couch and fallen asleep after Miro Shen, basically me but taller and a gravelly voiced badass with gay purple eyelights, put a gun in her hand and kept her shooting until her hands bruised from all the recoil. She'd barely changed into her drawstring waist pyjama pants and black t-shirt before immediately falling back asleep.

 

  Funny thing about her was, I actually considered getting into something serious with her. I loved long trips into the wild with nothing but a gun and a few clips of ammo, but I would push that aside for a while if it meant more time with her. I had already stopped smoking, as I'm a robot after all, and continued to make changes to myself as a whole just to make her happy. Might even stick with this Fireteam if it truly was safer. I read a lot about Church, the hero of the Red War, and Skylar was so notorious I learned of him the second I found civilization out in old Russia. They could probably protect her better than I could, and there's no doubt that Church would.

 

  Back to Ash. Cutest thing you'd ever see. Black hair cascading down her back, tiny nose, ocean blue eyes, a little bit above medium height cheekbones, firm looking bre- yes an exo can like that kind of thing in a woman, small bottom, overall hotness and cuteness with more of the latter than the former. And she's French. How she learned that in the week or less she'd even been alive I had no clue, but I'll take it. Fun fact, in the year two thousand seventeen the Paris Christmas tree was a huge green buttplug. Yep. If one was interested in seeing it, they'd just need access to some pre Golden Age Google archives and search it up. Pretty crazy, but I like the way those French roll. Too bad they had a habit of surrendering to everyone, from the Germans to some illegal migrants and explodey sand people. Poland though, they learned their lesson in the nineteen forties. No nonsense and all skin and bone. Lankiest fuckers you would ever lay eyes upon.

 

  All jokes aside, I loved her with all my… if I had a heart I'd love her with all of it. Have you ever watched someone just breathe? Watched the rise and fall of their back or chest as their lungs inflated and deflated? Listened to it too? Such a serene thing, and once more Ash brought a degree of cuteness to it. She hated it when I called her cute, or so she claimed, but I couldn't help but state the obvious. I could sit here and watch her all day. But a cunt named Prometheus had other ideas.

 

\-------[ ]

Bellona

In her jumpship with Church.

Heading to Io.

 

  Why couldn't I have nice things? Seriously, scarcely anything good ever happened to me anymore. Couldn't Prometheus have bloody waited? I was in the middle of a date with a man I actually was starting to feel something for once more, but I guess the universe had to stop me from having even that tiny sliver of happiness. Every man I had ever loved either died or disappeared. Zeke, a cute five foot tall Warlock with a damaged Ghost – similar to the one Ash had before we picked her up – killed himself after three happy months. His Ghost did something that stopped Ares from reviving him and shut off. Tom/ Erwin Rommel, whichever he actually was, likely something between the two, just vanished one day after his Ghost was killed by the Taken. Brandon died in the Red War. Idea-2 I most certainly did not love, which might explain why he wasn't dead yet. Oh, and Levi. An Awoken that I got particularly close with, now residing in the six foot deep home of fallen soldiers. And now Church charged with me unto certain death. Except Skylar might change things. He was notoriously powerful, the slayer of Oryx and Aksis and one of the two Guardians that confronted Ghaul. He'd torn Cabal flagships from the sky, called hurricanes of Arc, and was capable of much more (if it wasn't just all bluster and bullshit). Nonetheless, I would keep a close eye on Church and make it my personal duty to protect him from harm.

 

  Right now he sat in the copilot seat to my left, tightly and safely buckled into his seat and in full armor. I thought it suited him well. His helmet was something between a ballistic mask and goggles and a more modern helmet, his cloak a desert camouflage pattern with a silver crucifix stitched onto the hood, and the rest of his armor simply shouted American. Ammo pouches, bandoliers on his hips, the whole thing and more. I knew a Hunter named Texas who looked less American than Church did now. All that was missing was the M16 and Big Mac. 

  He pulled a book from a large pocket and removed his helmet to get a clearer view of it. I liked the way his short hair would look when it was messed up, although it always righted itself for some reason. He flipped to a specific page and began to read aloud.

 

  “Oh gather 'round me comrades, and listen-”, he began.

 

  “War poetry?”, I asked. “How charming. Yes, do tell me about how the crosses grow on Anzio, do educate me on the horrors of war.”

 

  “What did I do wrong?”, he inquired.

 

  “Could you try something less depressing?”, I requested. “We're flying into the jaws of death and…”, I began, my throat tightening and eyes stinging.

 

  “Hey, did I do something wrong?”, Church asked, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder.

 

  I took a few heavy breaths, gathering my thoughts and trying to speak again. After a few minutes I could speak clearly, and so I did.

 

  “I'm afraid of losing you.”, I admitted.

 

  And here it comes. The moment that would make or break my future with him. Depending on his response I would be able to tell exactly what kind of person he was.

 

  “I could say the same about you.”, he responded. “I don't want to lose someone like you because, as much as it my surprise you, I'm interested in you. Does the thought of your death strike me near dead with fear? Yes. But courage isn't having no fear. It's flipping fear the bird and being brave. And another thing, there's only one thing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose. A man with something to die for. And you just might be one of those things.”

 

  I placed my hand on his back and leaned into him. Passed with flying colors. I was about to say something when my ship entered the atmosphere. My radar was immediately flooded with chaff, and as we approached the bunker we got increasing amounts of flak. Literally. The shells whistled from cannons on the ground rapidly, exploding mid air and pelleting us with shrapnel. Shit! I took the controls and began manually performing evasive maneuvers. Deacon went from Church's shoulder to the cockpit window. He projected something onto it, a tactical visor but larger. It highlighted the shells and gave me individual explosion timers on each that included height and time until detonation as well as blast radius and a whole plethora of statistics only someone with a mind like mine could possibly take in all at once. Ares activated the weapons systems and Church immediately got to work using the bottom twin LMGs and single front mounted HMG to clear the air. The shells kept coming so I pulled up, high above the Cabal drill or even the Pyramidion. I was in the clear, or so I thought. I circled the compound a few times before the drones started coming, flying from hidden airfields below the ground. Unmanned stealth fighters, invisible to my radar but not my eyes. This ship had at least one camera on every surface, and I hooked the feeds up to my helmet. I could see the entire battle at once. I took control of the missiles and wing mounted tracer cannons, aiming at a hangar near the Echo Mesa still spewing drones and releasing a pair of Hellfire missiles that destroyed about a dozen, cleaning up the rest with the twelve hundred round per minute fifty cals. Around eight were tailing me, but Church made short work of them, shooting mini flak rounds from the HMG, which I had no clue could rotate or switch ammunition types. No complaints there though. Out of the blue three scores of drones completely surrounded us. A spherical flying formation.

 

  “Church, all guns pointed at your six, got it?”, I ordered.

 

  “You're crazy.”, he said, yet he obeyed my order. “In a good and attractive way.”

 

  I focused all my guns behind us, except the missiles, and took control of the entire arsenal. I squeezed all the triggers and pushed a button on each side of the controls, releasing a torrential barrage of rounds that cut us a way out. I shifted to reverse, flying a few hundred meters back before coming to a full stop midair. We were in a massive crater, and the drones were leading us into a wall. They all quickly evaded the trap they had planned for us and turned back to us, fanning out in a ‘v’ formation. I gave Church back the LMGs and two forty cals mounted on the inner wings, maintaining my control over the rest of the arsenal. Church opened fire, and so did the drones. A wave of over two hundred football sized mini rockets came our way, bound to reach us in seconds. Without any assistance from me or Deacon, he shot ninety percent of them out of the sky. I cleared out as many as I could too, but we still took a few hits. I returned fire myself, giving it everything this particular jumpship had to offer. I released all sixteen remaining Hellfires and cut a few drones down with my fifty cals. They rushed us all at once but were obliterated by the Hellfires and an Arc bolt from the Echo Mesa side of the crater. Skylar came in on the comms.

 

  “What would you guys do without me?”, he said smugly. “Aside from die?”

 

  I relaxed and allowed myself a brief chuckle. No drones left, no bullets fly. I turned around and docked by Asher Mir's Ahamkara skeleton. Me and Church transmatted out of the ship, and I was greeted by a ring of pressure around my chest. Church was hugging me. Highly unprofessional but… Why not? I hugged him back and patted his back. We broke it up and he offered me a fist. I shook it, not stooping to the level of most Titans I know. Fist bumps are just a phase and will never replace the handshake. It's smarter to be classy than trendy. Asher Mir stormed up to us, his blue face almost beet red with rage. His hands, even his cumbersome metal one, were clawed and shaking.

 

  “What is the meaning of all this ruckus!”, he demanded furiously.

 

  Idea-2 – clad in no proper armor but rather an Adidas windbreaker, shoes, hat, and track pants – was squatting atop a rib bone, smoking a cigarette out of vanity. He flicked the thing forcefully at Asher and leapt from his perch, grabbing the man by the shoulder.

 

  “Someone's got a stick in their ass today.”, he joked.

 

  “Off of me you imbecile!”, Asher shouted, pushing the Exo away.

 

  Skylar rounded the corner, a spring in his step an almost perceivable wish to whack the hornet's nest. He wore a long green trench coat, a Crown of Tempests helmet with a clear crystal visor, a pair of Ankaa Seeker gauntlets, and some slick looking boots. All green with traces of gold. Asher saw him and retreated to his alcove. Five more Guardians followed him. An intimidatingly tall Titan wearing spiked blood red armor, two Hunters holding hands, the female wearing white armor with black lightning bolts, the male wearing black armor with white bolts. Alex and Arya. Nice people, probably could hold their own in a fight. There was another completely new pair of Guardians too. The first was a Warlock wearing blue and silver robes that looked like a cross between a Victorian dress and corset and a trench coat, the boots and gloves of similar make, and a silver ribbon choker. She was wearing no helmet on her head, which let her long brown hair fall over her shoulders. The other was actually recognizable on second thought though. Jack the Ripper, a notorious bounty hunter from the United Kingdom. He wore the Celestial Nighthawk helmet, a torn red cloak, fancy ass leather boots, long red sleeves over plate armored gloves, and two bandoliers of flintlock pistols. Skylar motioned for us to join up in a circle and we did. Skylar walked to the center and motioned to the new guys.

 

  “I present to you, Jack and Riley.”, he announced. “They're new to Zeus, but I've heard rave reviews about them. Point of fact, Jack is one of the few people on Zeus who the book mentions. Jack, show em.”

 

  The Hunter pulled out a brownish laminated ID card, marked with the distinctive logo of the Joint Campus. He pocketed it and spoke in a harsh and gravelly voice.

 

  “It does not mean anything of any significance whatsoever.”, he stated. “I am a different person than he whom occupied this body and mind so many centuries ago. Please do not take it as such.”

 

  I crossed my arms and pumped my right hip out, trying to put on an air of unimpressed superiority.

 

  “That's not genuine modesty.”, I noted. “It's subtle reverse psychology. You're using this as an opportunity to inflate your ego and gain credit within the Fireteam. I don't like it, and I've never liked you.”

 

  “You are entitled to your opinion madam.”, he said with a bow. “But I truly do not give such things undue attention. I wish to forge a relationship with you as Jack, not as some long dead family chaperone and archeologist. I am a soldier of the Light now, as is my associate, as are all brought into this world once more by the miraculous machines called Ghosts.”

 

  “Nah Bellona’s onto something.”, Arya stated. “Took a three year psychology course, and I've got a gift for picking up on stuff like this. He's fucking with our heads for sure.”

 

  “I'm sorry you think that of my friend and colleague.”, Riley said. “But I must assure you he is a very genuine person.”

 

  “Ladies, ladies.”, Idea-2 chuckled, standing between me and Riley with his arms out. “There's enough of me for both of you.”

 

  “Are you sure about that?”, a youthful French accented voice asked.

 

  Idea-2 spun around to face Ash, dressed in standard Vanguard issue Hunter armor. He rushed to her and grabbed her shoulders.

 

  “What are you doing here?”, he hissed.

 

  “I don't know.”, she stated, already distracted by something else.

 

  Church stepped forward to help, ushering Ash back into Idea’s ship and promising her he would find her a patrol mission to do. With that taken care of, we made haste to end Prometheus.

 

(=]   [=)

Lance

In the Warmind vault.

Io, moon of Jupiter.

 

  For the hundredth time I scattered the swarm of SIVA, but this time I didn't stop there. I tossed a rusty chair through the control room window, shattering it. I leapt through, and Montgomery appeared at my shoulder. I had applied copious amounts of Arc Light to that last blow, buying me a few minutes. I stormed to the center of the room, directing Monty to hack the terminal.

 

  “I can't sir.”, he apologized. “Rasputin's adamant he can handle this. But I have another idea.”

 

  “What is it?”, I demanded.

 

  “No, I'll negotiate with the Warmind. He'll cooperate.”, he assured me.

 

  “Monty, we don't have time. Tell me.”, I insisted.

 

  “Giles. His explosives.”, Monty said reluctantly. “I know I can't stop you, and I don't want to. It's been a good run Lance. Now it's time to finish it.”

 

  I nodded in agreement. We solemnly did our duty, stripping Giles's corpse of anything remotely explosive and flammable. Monty swiftly planted a bomb on every surface, sealed the doors, and continued negotiation with Rasputin. A black swarm flooded out of the control room, washing over me but not taking shape. I was buffeted by the storm of metal, but I stood my ground. I called every scrap of my Light to my fists, holding onto a shred of hope I could survive. A fraction of the growing swarm took form, this time as a pitch black Hunter. It put particular effort into matching the appearance of someone I had known. Unlike most, this Hunter wore a trench coat and favored a Luger pistol. If it wasn't my old friend Thomas. Well it wasn't, but it was his spitting image.

 

  “Time that you met the fate of your ancestors, kike.”, he sneered in Tom's voice. “You know, Tom was actually a German. In fact, he claimed to be Erwin Rommel himself.”

 

  “How do you know this?”, I demanded, reaching behind my back to grab the detonator.

 

  “I've hacked things that make Warminds look like a computer running Windows XP.”, Prometheus said. “I believe you call them Vex? And those explosives won't work. If even a single line of my code still exists, so will I. And I am everywhere on this moon.”

 

  Shit! Fuck my ass and call me Sally! What now? Monty communicated with me via our neurosymbiotic link. He wanted me to create an EMP and detonate the explosives. It would have to be simultaneous though, or else the swarm – being immune to magnetism beyond its own – would remain untouched. I was having issues gathering my Light, and the explosives had a delayed detonation. Time to stall.

 

  “So what else can you do?”, I inquired.

 

  “I'm glad you asked.”, it replied.

 

<#>

Skylar

At the entrance to the Warmind vault.

Io, moon of Jupiter.

 

  So all this way we had come, a Fireteam the size of a platoon with the firepower of an army, only to get locked out of the place we needed to be when we needed to be there most. Fucking great. I sprinted to the large door and kicked it hard. My leg nearly broke, and the door remained intact. Riley strode to the front of the ground, a rocket launcher on her shoulder.

 

  “Stand back please.”, she ordered.

 

  We all gave her a wide berth, and Curtis went so far as to erect a towering barricade for us to take cover behind. Riley took a few steps back herself, somehow moving gracefully in her quite restrictive outfit. Idea-2 ran forward to stop her, knocking the launcher to the ground with a swing of his arm.

 

  “Wait a sec!”, he shouted. “I’m about two percent sure blowing a hole in a Warmind’s door isn't a good idea in the long run.”

 

  “He's got a point.”, I said. “If we do that the Cabal, Taken, and Vex will have free roam of his vault. That would really piss him off.”

 

  “Someone is inside that vault, and every second we aren't in there helping them is blood that might end up on our hands.”, Church said. “I say fuck Rasputin. He can make a new doo- Ow!”

 

  He clutched his head and began groaning in immense pain. He fell to the ground and I rushed to his side, checking his pulse and having North scan him. Nothing wrong. Bellona knelt down to prop him up and began rubbing his back and consoling him. Mysterious headache. Spooky. If you couldn't tell, it wasn't. It was just boring. I wanted to fight something that was actually on my level for once, not get Church a bottle of fucking Tylenol.

 

  I felt a sharp stinging in my sinuses, and then my entire brain too. It increased in painfulness exponentially each second, reducing me to a writhing and weak form. I could barely keep my eyes open, and the last thing I saw before it all faded to black was my Fireteam and friends, new and old, succumbing to the same ailment as I.

 

(=]   [=)

Lance

Warmind vault.

Io, moon of Jupiter.

 

  The air around me became quickly saturated with nanites, and the hailstorm of them increased greatly in force and volume. Prometheus appeared particularly concentrated on something, something other than me. I gathered my Light, preparing for the EMP that would have to encompass the entire moon. I wasn't even sure it was within my capacity to do so. My comms crackled, and an annoying but rational and calm voice began to speak.

 

  “This is Idea-2, the sexiest Russian-Finnish robot on this moon, how can I help? My Fireteam is down, but I can provide logistical support.”, he said.

 

  I found a glimmer of hope and realized I wasn't all that keen on dying. Maybe I could beat this thing in a better way.

 

  “What is Prometheus.”, I asked, realizing only now how taxing it was to call upon this much Light.

 

  “I don't know really.”, Idea replied. “But lord Solidass said something about him that might be useful. Psionic capabilities, used to be American tech, got stolen by the Russians, the end. That's all I remember. I think he mindfucked Bell.”

 

  “You're that exo, Charlie? Bellona told me about you.”, I said. “We keep in touch. Anyway, I don't think that helps at all- wait! You say it was stolen? Don't you mean duplicated? It's a program.”

 

  “Nope, stolen.”, Idea-2 insisted. “And I'm not Charlie. I changed that name because it's gay.”

 

  “I know a few gays myself. Anyway, that means he's limited to his own hardware right?”

 

  “He can probably interact with other tech, but yeah that sounds right. He must be somehow bound to some hard drive, and it must have a range limit. What if he brought it with him?”

 

  “Lying bitch that thing is, thanks for the advice. If you see Bellona, tell her I tried.”, I finished.

 

  Then I clicked the detonator. The clock began, and so did the end of my life. At least the EMP wouldn't be necessary.

 

<#>

Skylar

Mind's eye.

Literally in his mind's eye you dolt.

Like, a dream or some shit.

 

  I awoke into a dream, into a canola field. I didn't have any personal memories of this place, but in my biography I had written extensively if the time me and pre-Collapse Arya and our friend Seth had shared here with our families. Well, I didn't have one, but that's not the point. Plus, I had a job at a university at age nine. Must have watched a lot of Rick and Morty to get that smart. Anyway, there was nothing but the yellow plant and a few hills as far as the eye could see. And a swarm of flies heading my way, and by flies I meant something that most certainly was not a swarm of flies. I missed out on meeting this fucker the last time, but I didn't really want to now either. I was having a lucid dream (albeit in Vex territory) and I wanted to enjoy it. Imagine the possibilities. I could receive actual human affection. I could take off my figurative mask. I could make someone pierce my barrier of self isolation and love me. Man, I really am depressing under all those jokes. The swarm reached me and formed into a pitch black copy of a man wearing climbing equipment and a large suction cup on each limb. He stood silent in the canola, a mere two meters ahead of me.

 

  “Suction cup man?”, I scoffed. “How last millennium! Catch up on your memes pal!”

 

  “I've been disconnected from my network for the past few centuries.”, Prometheus said. “If I'm to assimilate- I mean upgrade the solar system then I'm going to need access. Rasputin has access.”

 

  “Hold on, shut the fuck up.”, I said, holding up a finger. “You don't get to do a James Bond villain exposition on me here. You haven't established yourself as a recurring or particularly malice adversary, so I have been given reason to believe you are neither.”

 

  “I will be both once Rasputin's defenses buckle.”, Prometheus stated.

 

  “Coolio, now get out of my head.”, I said.

 

  “Not yet, I have to demonstrate something to the Jew in the vault.”, Prometheus said. “You see, I'm not that evil. I'm going to have to knock the sheep unconscious before I slaughter it. I want to comfort the human race before they die. Congrats, you're the first customer.”

 

  “How do you intend to do that?”, I inquired, crossing my arms.

 

  “Just fucking with you!”, Prometheus said. “I'm going to torment you, you inferior bag of skin.”

 

  He changed shape, becoming a man in a business suit and top hat, and rose a few meters into the air. I was unimpressed, so I sat down in a lotus position, as instructed so long ago by Ikora, and meditated my irritation away. My eyes shut, but were forced open by an unseen force.

 

  “I know what you fear.”, Prometheus announced, his voice emanating from every atom. “I know what you desire. I know who you love. I know your potential futures, courtesy of the Vex. I will show you all of those things.”

 

  “Who are you, the fucking ghost of Christmas past?”, I joked, chuckling at my own humor.

 

  “You fear that which you have brought upon yourself.”, Prometheus continued. “And that which you cannot help. You are asexual, which leaves you to think you will never have nor need a companion, that even if you wanted one you would never get one.”

 

  “So how do you intend to show me this?”, I asked.

 

  “I don't, for you have lived it already for all of your new life.”, Prometheus stated.

 

  “Gay.”, I sighed. “In a not okay way.”

 

  “I know who you love, and I will show you what I'm doing to them as we speak.”, he said.

 

  In front of me in the field I saw Alex, the son I had engineered with Golden Age technology. He who I wished to love properly. He was bound, arms, legs, everything, which was not a pleasant experience for him. He came out weird, courtesy of the meddling of a certain Warmind during the fabrication process. Being bound brought him physical pain, which was probably the result of the attempted insertion of pre designed mental structure. Anyway, I didn't fret. Just a dream.

 

  “You really are cold aren't you?”, Prometheus said.

 

  “I would only intervene if Alex was in real danger.”, I told him. “Currently he is not. It's all a fucking dream.”

 

  “Well yoga man-”

 

  “Meditation you prick.”, I corrected. “Yoga, like you, is gay in a not okay way.”

 

  “I will make you stand just to bring you to your knees!”, he promised, making Alex disappear with a wave.

 

  “Try me.”, I prompted, knowing that he was all bark and no bite.

 

  The scene changed around me. I remained in my position, now floating. I was at a rooftop café in the Tower, Duke's Café specifically. There was another me here, albiet he was hardly recognizable. He wore black, torn armor. His coat was in tatters. His hair was greasy. He stood at the edge, on the railing, arms spread out wide. North didn't emerge to stop me from making the jump, and I prayed that I didn't. Seeing a suicide, even if just a dream, wasn't pleasant. Especially if it was your own, and one likely to happen according to the Vex. Prometheus gestured to him.

 

  “In the world where you destroy me, two likely futures emerge.”, he explained. “In this one, a great war has brought the City to its knees again, a great enemy occupied it, the Traveller itself, although awake, was in danger. But your Fireteam stopped them. You and a vast army of Guardians. A few of Zeus didn't make it to the end, and you don't deal with it right. But that's not the issue. It's your isolation. You remain isolated of your own volition. This leads to your depression, suicidal thoughts, and on December eighth, you disable North's ability to revive you. And you kill yourself.”

 

  The alternate me jumped, never to be seen again. The scene changed, brightened, grew cheerier in atmosphere. Me, Bellona, Church, and a mystery woman were all at a table. Alex and Arya were nowhere to be seen, but I overheard chatter about Alex being in a hospital and Arya being with him. We all wore very… I don't know, nice outfits. I wore a dark red leather jacket, a pair of black overalls with silver buttons, a dark blue shirt, a silk scarf, and nice boots. The woman, named Max, wore her Vanguard issue robes, a dark green sweater, a pair of burgundy leggings and short shorts, and some winter boots. Church wore his dress uniform, now with a Major’s insignia. Bellona had done her hair up spectacularly, like a Greek god. She wore winged boots, a pair of white, mid thigh length black jean shorts, a white sweater, and a loose scarf. We idly chatted while we waited for our drinks, and I did some uncharacteristic things. I gave off the impression that I thought I belonged to Max, I admitted to looking cute in an outfit she'd bought me, and was an overall emotional idiot. But deep down I knew that that was something I wanted desperately. Those hugs, the teasing, the small talk, the back rubs, and being hers. Unfortunately, I'm not that weak.

 

  “You know, if you defeat me this future still only has a three point six percent probability.”, Prometheus stated. “But who knows, maybe there's an alternate universe where I lose and you don't die alone. Now, if you excuse me, I have a Hellenic hottie to tort-”

 

  The dream faded around me, no, it just ended. I awoke inside the tunnel to Rasputin's bunker, blood trickling from my mouth. I struggled to my feet, slipping and falling a few times before Alex helped me up. Curtis was coddling and consoling Arya, Church was being held tight by Bellona, and Idea-2 was chatting via the comms with Ash. Jack and Riley were enjoying tea atop a broken down Cabal tank- okay there's no fucking way they're actually British. Jack's teeth were in stunning condition, and Brits don't just start doing shit like that out of the blue. Bellona gave Church a kiss on the forehead and sauntered over to me. Alex helped me sit down on a busted Interceptor, and he sat down on my right. Bellona took a seat to my left.

 

  “I knew Lance, you know.”, Bellona said.

 

  I remained silent, mulling over the information I had been forced to recieve.

 

  “Really?”, Alex inquired.

 

  “Yeah. He was a great guy. My boyfriend before Tom and after Rav- Arthur. Almost said another name there. We didn't end off on a good note. Our relationship was falling apart, we were finding few reasons to even talk anymore. Then we went to Armenia, on the request of a mystery man. His name was Tom, and he'd gotten in trouble with a human settlement by a lake. His ship crashed in their water supply and we had to help him tow it out and purify the lake. We bonded then, and I broke up with Lance. He left my Fireteam, saying he'd been cucked, calling me a whore. He apologized, but still, the tension was there. Anyway, Tom was always joking that he was secretly Rommel, and actually put up some pretty convincing theories to try and prove it. Being pre Golden Age, the metal coffin in Germany, cyanide pill in his system after all that time… Crazy shit. It all started when we entered Germany to follow a distress beacon. He got really desperate, and it was funny. But he disappeared a few days after his Ghost was consumed by the Taken.”

 

  “That's sad.”, Alex said. “That's why you're so protective of Church.”

 

  “I am not.”, Bellona insisted.

 

  “I know what it's like to be protective.”, Alex stated. “And there's nothing wrong with it. I am Arya's soldier and protector. I am hers. Although she thinks it's the other way around.”

 

  “Ever watch Mad Max?”, Bellona asked.

 

  “No, why?”, Alex answered.

 

  “You can't own people.”, Bellona joked.

 

  “You talk like Lance isn't here.”, I mumbled, still contemplating my future.

 

  “He perished heroically.”, Jack announced. “And we shan't find his corpse. Asher Mir was fussing about an explosion.”

 

  “Can confirm.”, Idea said, immediately getting back to his call.

 

  “That's…”, I growled, “That's infuriating! Why the fuck didn't Rasputin let me in?”

 

  I got up and stormed over to the gate. I gathered Solar energy in my hands and prepared to melt the fucking thing. Rasputin wants to play games? Let's fucking play. Asher Mir came in on the comms.

  
  “Actually, the Vex are being awfully active near the Pyramidion.”, he said. “Let off some steam assistant.”


End file.
